


The Sacred Grove

by Isabear



Series: Summer Pornathon 2014 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elfquest Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Challenge: Tropesmash, Elves, Enemy Lovers, F/M, POV Gwaine (Merlin), Summer Pornathon 2014, Team Gluttony, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabear/pseuds/Isabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of battle, Gwaine hears a voice in his mind - his enemy's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sacred Grove

**Author's Note:**

> If you need content notes relating to consent, please see the end of the work.

_Recognition._

Gwaine never expected it. There were so many tribes spilling out over the five great lands, so many lives lost through skirmish or illness as the healers dwindled in number. Most people lived their whole lives with lovemates and lifemates of their own choosing, giving their soulnames to those dearest, not to strangers in the shock of a first glance.

After the battle, he went to his tribe's junior healer and said, "Fix this." 

Merlin looked at him sadly and shook his head.

***

She sent her messenger, a crow with a voice like stone on stone. It cocked its head in the windowsill of his hut and called him to the sacred grove, at dusk, alone.

He fretted for hours, played dice with Percival and asked Elyan to let him pump the bellows at the forge to burn off this restless energy, the forge no hotter than his body's desires. But...

 _Lefay_ , his soul whispered. In the distance he felt the fluttering of crow's wings.

As the sun went down, he left the village alone.

***

The grove was cool and twilit, washed a soft lavendar. Animals rustled in the underbrush, but the small clearing was empty but for the faint gleam of doe eyes between the trees, watchful.

She stepped out of the shadows, her gown trailing blue midnight. She was beautiful, deadly, the junior queen of his enemies, now. He should strike her down, or wound her as a warning to the priestesses not to take sides among the tribefolk.

He reached for her instead.

The brush of their fingertips unleashed a roar like a mighty waterfall in his mind. His lifetime, her lifetime, rushing together in a torrent that spilled over the edge of everything he knew.

 _Walwen_ she sent, her mind-voice like bells. But behind the musical grace, he heard reluctance, even fear.

She had as much to lose as he did.

With that flash of empathy, his fingers tightened in hers. _I will not harm you._

She laughed silently. _As if you could._ She shared an image of her young dragon lying watchful in the woods behind him. But there was also an easing of the frost in her mind-voice.

Not fear of harm, then, but of rejection.

Breathing deep, he drew upon the memories given him by Arthur, Gwen - even Merlin - of a younger and more playful Morgana, before she chose the priestesses. Of the hardness in Uther's heart caused by the death of his lifemate. He could see the echoes of old fears inside her when he offered a glimpse of Uther's scowling face.

Well, he was Arthur's man, not Uther's. He offered her that truth as well.

They warmed to each other slowly, the mental landscape between them shifting and uncertain. Gwaine lost himself in learning the contrasting heat and cool, the keenness of her mind and memories. 

He woke to himself sometime later, stars bright overhead and them lying in the grass, his head pillowed on her chest. Grinning ruefully, he leaned up on one elbow and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I won't change," he admitted. "I'm a hothead, drinker, and flirt. Probably a bad match for you."

She watched him with her strangely clear eyes, like she could see straight through him (she could). 

_We'll see._

Her fingers twined behind his head and pulled him down to her. The press of her cool lips was soft at first, chased by a sharp nip. He laughed into her mouth, delighted as his body stirred again.

She rolled them over (he knew she would) and pressed his arms into the grass, pinning him with an imperious glare. _Stay._

He shuddered full-body, feeling her slippery dress slide against his skin as she opened his tunic, unlaced his breeches, bared him to the sky and to her long-nailed fingers. He was panting by the time she leaned back over him, a twinkle in her eye.

 _Shall I?_ she asked, though he saw the flush on her neck and knew she wanted this, too.

 _Please, please,_ he gave her, like an offering. She took it, rose up and sank down on him in one smooth motion, whiting out his mind with the sheer pleasure of touching her.

 _Mine,_ she sent fiercely, masks stripping away as she rode him into the prickling grass. "Mine."

It was the first time he'd ever heard her speak aloud.

"Yours," he gasped, throwing his whole heart into the word and damning the consequences.

**Author's Note:**

> Content Notes: Soul-recognition with a built-in biological imperative, but they have the option to ignore it (concept borrowed from Elfquest). So the initial telepathic moment is non-consensual on both their parts, but the subsequent telepathy and the sex are entirely consensual.


End file.
